


Too good, too bad

by figaro



Category: Bleach
Genre: Barebacking, Dirty Talk, First Time, Fucking solves everything, M/M, Nosebleed, Oral Sex, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figaro/pseuds/figaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All is not right with Ichigo, that much is clear to Renji, but when he offers to help he ends up doing so in a way he really, really shouldn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too good, too bad

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Ichigo wasn’t supposed to be on top of Renji, doing his best to shove his tongue down his throat and groping him wherever he could reach; fumbling, inexperienced touches that made Renji’s entire body tingle.

And Renji wasn’t supposed to kiss back.

He had only wanted to talk, to see what was up with the kid, ask him if he was ok, and since he knew Ichigo clammed up whenever someone expressed concern over him, Renji had decided to lubricate the conversation with alcohol. Just to make things go smoother.

His plan had backfired the moment Ichigo had downed his third cup of sake, his face flushed and his movements unsteady, and had reached across Renji’s kitchen table, tipping sake bottles and cups over, and punched Renji in the face.

Mind your own fucking business, he’d shouted. I’m ok, can’t you see that? I’ll fix this.

Renji , who’d taken the blow to his nose, had been trying to stem the flow of blood from it with his bandana as Ichigo raged at him, their faces so close specks of saliva hit him. Sure, alright, he’d said. You fix things, that’s what you do, but have you ever thought of letting your friends help you?

At that Ichigo had sat back, arms crossed over his chest, his scowl so deep and dark it had turned his entire face into a mask of barely suppressed rage.

Renji had decided to charge on, his voice nasal and muffled and his head tilted back.

Do you sleep ok? Do you have nightmares?

Ichigo had opened his mouth, snapped it shut, opened it again, looking like a fish on land. None of your business, he’d repeated.

I’ve heard you, Ichigo. You’ve slept here for a week now while sorting shit out with the brass. You sound scared, really scared, and I know you wake up screaming.

Ichigo had gotten to his feet, about to storm out from Renji’s quarters for all Renji knew and so he had stood up as well and before he’d had time to think it through he’d thrown his bandana to the side, grabbed Ichigo and pulled him into a tight hug.

It had been an idiotic thing to do, but Renji had been drunk as well. Yeah, he’d been drunk, that’s why he had done it and the hard on he’d gotten while holding the kid had just been a natural reaction to standing so close to someone. Yeah.

Ichigo had fought him of course, but not with the desperation Renji had imagined he would. He’d pushed at Renji’s shoulders and kicked him in the shin but it had been half-assed. Still he’d finally managed to get away by dealing out a head butt that had hit Renji right in the nose and made it bleed again.

And it had hurt like a bitch.

Renji had stood there, his hand cupping his nose to try and collect the blood without much success, a thin trail still trickling down his lips and dripping from his chin and too much of it getting into his mouth, nearly making him gag.

A couple of steps away from him Ichigo had stood, chest heaving, hands curled into knuckle-whitening fists, eyes _burning_.

And a cock hard enough to tent his hakama, twitching visibly as Renji stared at it.

The second after he’d been on his back with Ichigo on top of him, hands on his shoulders pinning him to the floor.

Renji had just stared at Ichigo for several long seconds, blood running down the back of his throat, before he’d sputtered and asked what the hell he was doing.

Ichigo had answered by grinding his hips down, rubbing his cock against Renji’s and wringing a harsh moan from him. After that he’d risen a little and used the sleeve of his uniform to roughly wipe Renji’s face clean, wiping it over his aching nose and blood stained lips and not stopping until there was nothing but faint smears left on his face, before he grabbed Renji by the throat and kissed him, their teeth clacking together painfully.

After a moment he had pulled back and looked down at Renji with a strange look on his face. You taste like shit, he’d said. And then he’d started tugging Renji’s uniform off.

And there they were now, bare-chested and sweaty and desperate in their touches. Ichigo’s skin was so hot to the touch Renji imagined it sizzling under his fingers as he dragged them down his back.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He tugged Ichigo’s head back by the hair, instantly punished by a sharp bite to his lip before it was out of reach. “We need to stop. You need to stop.”

Ichigo grimaced, shaking his head to make Renji let go of him. He raised himself on his arms and stared down at Renji. “You said you wanted to help me, right? Help me. Right here. Help me. If I fuck myself tired maybe I won’t have to dream about you guys… About you—” He cut himself off, the muscles in his jaw tensing visibly as he ground his teeth together.

“Ichigo...” Renji slid his hand through Ichigo’s hair gently this time, feeling strands damp from sweat between his fingers and finding himself liking how it felt. Natural somehow—as if he’d wanted to do it for a long time.

He snatched his hand back when Ichigo’s features tightened.

“I don’t want your fucking pity, Renji!” Ichigo spat. “I….” He hung his head with a heavy sigh and closed his eyes.

“We shouldn’t do this, Ichigo. I want to help you but this is not the way to go.” Renji tentatively reached up again, this time curling his hand around Ichigo’s neck.

Ichigo snapped his head back up. “Let me fuck you.” He ground his hips down, making Renji’s half-hard cock twitch with reawakened interest, and kept grinding, working his hips in a rolling motion as if he was already fucking him and when Renji rewarded him with a hoarse moan he leaned down and kissed him again.

Inside Renji a battle raged between lust and concern; between a dawning realization of how attracted he was to Ichigo and knowing this was _wrong_. This was not what Ichigo needed. His cut off confession had told Renji as much. But dear god did Renji want him. His conscience looked on helplessly as he wrapped his arms around Ichigo’s neck and kissed him back. He arched his back as Ichigo’s cock pressed against his through layers of fabric and after a while he threw a leg over Ichigo’s thigh, pulling him even closer.

Ichigo pulled back from the kiss panting and Renji could already sense the question on his tongue so he nodded and tried to force some sense of normality, of his usual rough timbre into his voice as he gave his permission, but out came something soft, a murmur. “Alright...”

At that Ichigo sat up and started to tug on his already loosened obi, throwing it to the side, his fingers working on the ties of his hakama before the white strip of fabric had even landed on the floor. With his hakama around his knees and his fundoshi half-unwound he paused and gave Renji a hesitant look.

Renji, having decided to just try and push the entire mess into the back of his head and deal with it in the morning, replied with a crooked smile. “You done this before?”

Ichigo hesitated before sticking his chin out and straightening up, a stance meant to impose but mostly came out looking forced. “Does it matter?”

“Not really.” Pushing himself up on his elbows, Renji licked his bottom lip, tasting both Ichigo and copper on it. He shifted and sat up fully. “Let’s go to bed. You’re damn well not fucking me on the floor.” After receiving a stiff nod from Ichigo he got to his feet and undid his ruined ponytail while heading for the bathroom. “Just gonna wash my face off,” he called over his shoulder. “You go lie down.”

Renji took his time wiping his face clean with a wet towel and washing his mouth thoroughly to get rid of the final faint traces of blood, all while filling the sink with cold water. When he was done he dunked his head in the water without much ceremony, hoping it would help him clear his mind.

Thought after countless thought rushed through his head, most of them telling him to leave Ichigo in his bedroom and take the futon in the other room for himself and just let them both sleep it off, telling him it was insane to do this, telling him there was no excuse for it.

At the same time his cock throbbed and his body longed, _ached_ for Ichigo’s slender body and inexperienced hands. Not to mention the feeling of getting fucked into oblivion. It had been a long time since he’d felt that. And maybe Ichigo _could_ get some frustration out that way; maybe he would work himself so tired he’d manage to sleep without dreaming.

Excuses, all of them.

But Renji had made his mind up, deciding to let his cock call the shots tonight. He wanted it, Ichigo needed it. What the hell.

He pulled his head out of the freezing water and grabbed a towel to dry his face off with before he wrapped it around his hair, wringing most of the water from it before roughly rubbing it. He didn’t bother taking a look in the mirror after he was finished. He already knew he’d look like an idiot with his hair mussed like that. It didn’t matter.

It wrought a smile from Ichigo as he entered the bedroom.

Renji found himself pausing in the doorway. The kid was a stunning sight, he’d give him that. He laid stretched out on the futon, completely naked with only the corner of a sheet covering his lap, as if a sudden modesty had struck him. It made Renji smile back.

“I wondered what took you so long. Didn’t think you’d wash your hair.”

“I just wet it.”

“Same thing.”

Renji shrugged and undid the knot of the obi hanging loosely around his hips and let it slide to the floor, his hakama following a couple of seconds later.

Keeping his fundoshi on he dropped to his knees on the futon and crawled up until he loomed over Ichigo on all fours, his damp hair hanging down like a curtain and shielding their faces from the outside world.

Ichigo instantly grabbed a handful of it and pulled him down into a kiss. He nipped at Renji’s lips to make them part and once Renji let him in he dragged his tongue over Renji’s, more careful this time, nothing like the sloppy tongue fucking he’d dealt out earlier on the floor. It was as if he wanted to impress, to show Renji he knew how to do this. And it wasn’t half bad.

Renji responded by closing his lips and gently sucking on Ichigo’s tongue, moving around it as if sucking him off and he received a low moan in reply. When they parted the tip of Ichigo’s tongue was still hanging out, dripping wet with saliva. The sight made Renji’s cock jump in the confines of his fundoshi. He slid off Ichigo and started removing them. “Nightstand on your left. Second drawer. A brown jar.”

Ichigo snorted. “You keep lube by your bed? Do you fuck a lot?”

Renji slid the garment off and wrapped his hand around his cock. “No, but I jerk off a lot.” He moved his hand in emphasis.

Ichigo seemed transfixed by the sight, staring at Renji’s moving hand with a look so wanton and at the same time ridiculous it made Renji chuckle. “Wanna touch it?” But instead of intimidating Ichigo as he thought he would, Ichigo sat up and kneeled in front of him, already reaching his hand out but hesitating and it ended up hovering in the air and inch from Renji’s.

Renji let go of his cock and leaned back on his hands. “Go ahead.”

Slowly, almost shyly, Ichigo dragged a couple of fingers along the length, from the head down to the base where he pushed lightly. He slid them back up and let one tip slip over the slit, catching precome on it. Instead of wiping it off, he brought his hand to his mouth, stuck his tongue out and licked his finger.

Renji tried to hide his surprise but he couldn’t hold back a moan at the sight of Ichigo tasting him, his groin tightening to the point where his balls drew up closer to his body, preparing for orgasm.

Ichigo smacked his lips. “Figured it would be worse. Doesn’t taste much at all.”

Renji had to clear his throat before he was able to answer. “You thought of it before?”

“Yeah.” Ichigo’s smile was almost sly as he met Renji’s eyes. “I’ve wondered what it’s like to suck a cock.”

Where the earlier desperation had gone, Renji had no idea. Maybe it had evaporated while Ichigo lay waiting for Renji to come to bed, maybe he had cooled down a little now when he knew he’d get what he wanted. In any case the smile on his face made no sense compared to the nervousness Renji had seen just moments ago. He realized it had to be an act and as he wasn’t much for games he decided to call Ichigo on it. “Wondered what it’s like to get a load in your mouth too? What it’s like to have your head shoved down when you suck so you can’t even breathe?”

The sly look melted off Ichigo’s face, replaced by familiar hesitation. He swallowed. “You’re nasty.”

“You started it. Now are you gonna touch my cock or should we just get on with it?” Renji arched his back and thrust his hips forward while giving Ichigo a sly grin of his own.

In reply Ichigo wrapped his fingers around Renji and squeezed lightly before he started moving. When he looked down, studied closely what he was doing and taking in Renji’s reactions – his hips jerking forwards, the sounds he made deep in his throat, Ichigo moved closer with a moan of his own. He started jerking Renji off properly, palm and fingers smearing precome over the entire shaft, making slick noises as he moved. “Dunno why you need lube, Renji. Fuck, you get wet like a girl.”

Renji managed a hoarse chuckle. “Only when I’m really fucking excited.”

Ichigo’s hand stopped moving. “So you’re… You’re…”

“Really fucking excited, yeah.” The hand on him felt divine. For all he cared Ichigo could continue to jerk him off until he came and he’d be done for the evening. He needed that damn hand to start moving again. “You’re damn hot, Ichigo, and getting attacked on my kitchen floor with that sweet cock rubbing against mine really turned me on.”

Ichigo actually blushed at that, probably the sweetest blush Renji had ever seen, starting on his neck and visibly creeping up his cheeks to reach all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“Fuck me.” Renji got a surprised look in reply. What the hell did the kid have to be surprised over? He was the one who had started this entire mess. “Either fuck me or keep jerking me off. I wanna come.”

“Fine,” Ichigo muttered and released Renji’s cock before dragging his clean hand over his face, as if trying to rub the blush away.

Renji once more took himself in hand as he watched Ichigo scoot back on the futon and dig out the lube from the nightstand, then weighing the little jar in his hand and looking as if he was trying to decide something.

“Just give me the damn jar. I’ll do it.”

He barely even got a nod in reply before Ichigo tossed the jar to him, and had to catch it one handed, his other hand still wrapped tightly around his cock. He shot Ichigo an irritated glance before letting himself go and screwing the lid off. Coating two fingers with the milky salve, Renji got up on his knees and reached behind him.

In front of him Ichigo sat down flat on his ass and stared at him.

“I wanna watch.”

Well that was unexpected.

“Not much to see, kid. This won’t take long. Just sit down and shut up.”

“No. Turn around.”

Renji paused. Those three little words delivered in that serious tone made him shudder. He felt like obeying – getting bossed around could be oh so very nice now and then – but obeying _Ichigo_? He wasn’t sure about that. Being told what to do by a virgin brat felt more than a little demeaning. Still… Oh what the hell. If the kid got too cocky he’d just call it off and put him in his place. Until then, well…

He shuffled around until he had his back to Ichigo, two fingers pressed against his entrance.

“Bend over.”

Renji felt his hackles rise. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Then again, none of this was.

What the hell.

He leaned forward, bracing himself on an elbow and when he heard a drawn-out groan from behind him he suspected he’d done the right thing going with Ichigo’s demands. His cock, leaking enough precome for a thin strand to connect the head to the mattress beneath for a couple of quivering seconds, twitched as he pushed his fingers inside, not pausing until they were halfway in.

Ichigo groaned again. “Damn…”

“Like what you see?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Renji couldn’t help but moan. He pushed his fingers deeper, gently bending them this way and that, making sure he stretched himself, then pulled them out until only the tips remained inside – just for show, just to drag another groan out of Ichigo – before pushing back in, all the way in one slick move.

And Ichigo did groan; groan and shuffle forwards until he rested his hands on Renji’s lower back. “So fucking hot. I just wanna…”

Renji removed his fingers and wiped them off on the sheets. “Just go slow.” He rested his weight on both elbows and hung his head. Just a tool. He couldn’t allow himself to forget he was just a tool to help Ichigo relieve some tension and sleep better. But he’d get to come. And be fucked. And he just had to be alright with that. At least for tonight.

He heard Ichigo fumble for the jar; heard slick, nasty sounds as the kid coated his cock with lube, a rustling by his hip as he wiped his hand clean and then felt the blunt tip of a cock starting to push inside him. The stretch nearly made him whimper but he only allowed a grunt to slip out, fisting his hands in the sheets and biting his lip to keep quiet.

As the head was fully buried Ichigo grabbed Renji’s hips, squeezing them, rubbing them as if to comfort him, before he pushed deeper, inch by slow inch, until he was all the way in and his hips were pressed against Renji’s ass. He stilled. “This ok?”

It was more than ok, it was fucking fantastic, but Renji wasn’t about to tell Ichigo that. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to get the words out of his mouth, afraid only a long stream of filth would make it out. “Move,” was all he managed to produce from between clenched teeth.

Ichigo obeyed, grabbing Renji’s hips tighter and pulling out halfway before pushing back in. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, his voice so thick it was almost unrecognizable.

The words hit Renji hard. He liked how bewildered, how helplessly aroused Ichigo sounded and although he didn’t want to start babbling himself, he realized he’d love it if Ichigo did. So he braced himself and pushed back, their bodies meeting with a wet slap.

“Fuck!” Ichigo rolled his hips in response. “Holy fuck, you feel good, Renji. Shit…”

Renji wanted more of that.

He repeated the move, fucking himself on Ichigo’s cock and drawing the filthiest little exclamations and moans from him, all while he wanted to join in, let all the words lodged in his throat out, tell Ichigo to fuck him, fuck him hard, come in him, make him come, but he held back.

Finally Ichigo stilled Renji with a hand splayed on the small of his back, before pulling out all the way. “You’ve no idea of how hot you look here,” he muttered, dragging a fingertip over Renji’s entrance, making it twitch. “Makes me wanna…”

Renji let out something between a groan and a sigh and let his forehead rest on his arms, back arched and backside on full display. “Fuck me.” He felt his resolve to keep his mouth shut weaken. “Fuck me, Ichigo. Stick your fucking cock in me and _fuck me,_ Ichigo.”

“Shit.” Ichigo pushed back in without notice, making Renji swear and cry out, and started pumping his hips. “Want… want more of those.” He went hard, barely a hint of inexperience in his movements, and he got what he wanted, wringing more cries and filthy curses out of Renji as he fucked him.

Damn, it really _had_ been a long time since Renji had gotten fucked like this. He couldn’t even remember when it’d been. Years ago. He allowed himself to drown in the sensation of Ichigo’s hips hitting his ass with bruising force, thrusts so hard they nearly hurt. Every wet slap brought him closer to orgasm and he hadn’t even touched himself yet. This was going to be glorious, and from the sounds Ichigo made it wasn’t going to be half bad for him either. “God, Ichigo…”

“Gonna come in you, Renji.”

“Fuck yes, you do that,” Renji grunted, bracing himself best he could on one arm and reaching down with the other to grab his cock.

“Oh _damn!_ ” Ichigo sounded almost as if he was about to cry. “Yeah, touch yourself. Oh god, come with me.”

‘Bout to, Renji thought, not bothering with an answer. He jerked himself off with hard strokes while savoring the feeling of Ichigo pounding him, feeling the slender cock slide in and out of him, fill him up over and over. The fact that it was _Ichigo_ was what finally drove him over the edge. Ichigo, the sullen kid who Renji never in a million years would have dreamed could fuck like this, as if he was born to do it. Ichigo, his nakama.

Ichigo, whom he had sworn to himself he’d help.

It was just too dirty, the _way_ he had ended up helping him and he couldn’t take it. Biting down on his arm hard, Renji came, raw pleasure traveling straight from his gut down to the head of his cock, spilling over the sheets, dribbling down his fingers.

He faintly heard Ichigo chant ‘fuck fuck fuck’ in the background, had to steady himself again with a sticky hand as Ichigo picked up the pace even more and drove into him so hard he nearly knocked the breath out of him. “Come,” he growled.

With a whimper Ichigo did, jerking his hips in shallow, quick thrusts as he came inside Renji, still repeating that one word as he did.

As he slowed down and finally came to a halt and collapsed on top of Renji, his chant turned into ‘you feel so good’ which he kept muttering between placing sloppy kisses between Renji’s shoulder blades.

The unexpected display of affection dragged Renji from his post-orgasmic haze and back to the present. “You too,” he managed, wanting to reach up and touch the sweaty body on top of him, but not knowing how to do it without toppling over. “Pull out,” he finally said.

Ichigo did as he was told, his softening cock slipping out easily, and dropped down on his back next to Renji.

Renji in turn straightened his aching legs and stretched out on his belly, right on top of the mess he’d made. He met Ichigo’s eyes and there was something in them he couldn’t put his finger on. A tenderness, maybe. Maybe it was just Ichigo being blissed out. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it before Ichigo rolled onto his side and let his head rest next to Renji’s, their faces so close the tips of their noses were touching. A hand came up and tried to comb through Renji’s still damp hair and immediately got tangled in it.

Ichigo just chuckled at that; a warm, rich chuckle that went straight to Renji’s gut.

Maybe it was tenderness after all.

“Thanks,” Ichigo murmured.

“For what? It’s not as if I was just doing you a favor.”

“Yes it is. Maybe it became something else, and from the way you squeezed me when you came, which was really fucking hot by the way, I’m guessing you got something out of this too. But you still did me a favor.” Ichigo yawned softly. “And I think it worked.”

At this Renji felt himself both smiling and frowning. “We still have a shitload of stuff to discuss, Ichigo.” He grabbed Ichigo’s wrist with a sigh and pulled his fingers free from his hair. Yeah, they had a lot to discuss alright; way, way more than they’d had at the beginning of the evening.

“I know.” Ichigo sounded so drowsy Renji found it a wonder he still had his eyes open.

“So we’ll talk tomorrow?”

Ichigo removed his hand from Renji’s grasp and instead tucked it under his cheek. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

Renji supposed he had to settle for that. The kid was all but snoring. His words might not have meant much but they would have to do.

When Ichigo did snore, a soft, tiny sound Renji found himself thinking of as cute, he unsteadily got to his feet, threw a sheet over the sleeping form of his friend and headed for the bathroom to clean himself up.

Tomorrow would have to do.  
 **  
xXx**


End file.
